


Gabriel Should Never Try to Help

by becausetheplotsaidso (astoldbyidiots)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M, Not Beta Read, mid-season 5 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoldbyidiots/pseuds/becausetheplotsaidso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel tries to make Castiel happier through turning him into a kitten and giving him to the Winchesters. While the boys are on a hunt. Just before Dean’s birthday. Dean is not pleased (at first). (Cross-posted from tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There isn’t much warning, although that isn’t uncommon for him.  
  
One minute Dean is staring at the television in yet another crappy motel room, and the next there’s an archangel glaring at him. A short, annoying, probably going to kill him again, archangel. An archangel who is looking at him like whatever’s happening is his fault.  
  
Considering Gabriel’s track record, Dean finds this to be extremely unfair.  
  
“Where’s my brother, Winchester.” Despite the phrasing, it isn’t a question.  
  
“He left. Again,” Dean huffs, putting his knife back under his pillow. He wonders why he’s the one who has to put up with all of this shit.  
  
“And you just let him go?” Gabriel’s eyes narrow in contempt. “Seriously?”  
  
“What else was I supposed to do? He’s on a quest to find God, and it’s not like he has any reason to stick around here.” Dean knows he’s starting to sound like the twelve year old girl he always makes his brother out to be, he’s just too tired to care. “What do you want, Gabe?”  
  
“Well, your little brother, for one,” Gabriel drawls, smirking and tossing Dean a dirty wink. “But right now, I’d settle for you pulling your head out of your ass.”  
  
Dean blinks at him, confusion and exhaustion a thick fog in his mind. “What?”  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
With that, Gabriel snaps his fingers and starts to vanish like the Cheshire cat, until all that’s left is his wicked grin.  
  
Show-off.  
  
If Dean were more than semi-conscious, he’d probably be a little amused. As it is, he just rolls his eyes and tries to drift off before Sam gets back.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The sound of the key in the lock wakes him an hour later. His hand is reflexively curled around his weapon before his eyes are even open, but he relaxes when he sees it’s just his brother.  
  
“Sorry it took so long,” Sam pants. “The weather’s starting to get bad. I thought you said we were gonna go south this year?”  
  
“Take it up with Bobby, dude,” Dean slurs out, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “He’s the one who found a hunt two weeks before my birthday.”  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
A week ago, they’d been heading to investigate some omens down in Louisiana, with Bobby planning to meet them a bit later. The sun had been shining, Sam had been smiling for the first time in too long, and Dean had been looking forward to spending what might be his last birthday ever with his family.  
  
Then his phone had rung.  
  
One of Bobby’s acquaintances from Wisconsin had cashed in an old favor, something about a nest of vampires outside of Madison fifteen years ago. The only lead the man had for them was the name of the current owner of some bar. That, and a reminder to stock up on holy water.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
“Hey, if we finish this up quick enough, we can still-”  
  
Dean shakes his head, signaling Sam not to bother. “Don’t, man. We’ll finish it and then head to Sioux Falls. The old man can host this year. And this way I can have a homemade cake.”  
  
Sam sighs, knowing Dean isn’t happy. There’s nothing he can do, though, so he just chucks a burger at his brother’s head.  
  
When Dean doesn’t yell at him for mistreating his dinner or ask if there’s pie, he knows something’s actually wrong.  
  
“Dude, I was gone for like two hours, tops! What could have possibly happened in that time?” Sam frowns, puzzled. “Did you and Cas have a fight, or something?”  
  
Dean’s head snaps up. “What? Why is that the first thing- Never mind. No, that bastard archangel dropped by.”  
  
“Gabriel?” Sam whips around, dropping his fork back into his salad. “Gabriel was here? Why?”  
  
Dean looks into his brother’s wide, curious eyes. He shrugs. “He didn’t say. All he did was yell at me for Cas going off or something.” He shrugs again and looks away.  
  
“That’s it? He didn’t come for anything? Just to tell you off?” asks Sam. He seems strangely… disappointed, like he was hoping for a distraction. Like he’d been expecting Gabriel’s presence to mean a break from the apocalypse.  
  
Or maybe like he’s still hoping Gabriel will change his mind about helping them.  
  
Dean snorts. “Dude, are you honestly surprised? The guy’s a dick. I’m just glad he didn’t kill me. Again.”  
  
As he turns back to his burger, he catches Sam’s bitchface #22 (‘you think it was bad for you?’) out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Look, don’t worry about it,” Dean sighs. “He said something all mysterious and then left. Like I said, guy’s a dick.”  
  
Sam opens his mouth to respond when there’s a soft scratching at the door. Grabbing his gun, he glances at his brother. Seeing Dean arming himself too, he stands and goes to check the peephole.  
  
Nothing’s there.  
  
Frowning, Sam opens the door and pokes his head out.  
  
There’s still nothing there.  
  
“Sam?” Dean calls, still perching on the end of his bed, but tense and ready.  
  
At the sound of his voice, something makes a small noise by Sam’s feet. When he looks down, a tiny, black kitten stares up at him with huge blue eyes.  
  
“Mew?” it says again, a bit more insistently this time. It tilts its head to the side, which strikes Sam as oddly familiar.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Dean’s by his side now, gun drawn but held loosely in one hand. When he sees the little fluffy thing at their doorstep, he tucks his weapon away and glares at his brother. “Did it follow you home?”  
  
“I don’t think so.” Sam crouches down to get a better look at their visitor. “Hi, little guy. Are you lost?”  
  
The kitten mews again, impatient. It tilts its head again, this time in the other direction, and the movement produces a tinkling sound. Apparently intrigued by this, the kitten tries to look down at itself and begins scratching at its own neck.  
  
“It has a collar, so it must have somebody who’s worried about it.” Sam reaches down to pick the cat up, which doesn’t so much as blink. He shuts the door gently behind him and turns to his brother. “Let’s see…”  
  
There’s two tags on the dark blue fabric, and Dean lifts the top one up so he can read it.  
  
“’Cas?’ Why would- Gabriel!” Dean yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Gabriel turned Cas into a kitten!”  
  
“What?” When Dean doesn’t answer, Sam turns over both of the tags around the cat’s neck. “The other one says, ‘If found, please return to those idiots in the Impala.’ And then it’s got your cell number. Dude, I thought you said Gabe didn’t do anything!”  
  
“He didn’t! He- Look, put Cas down. You’re gonna hurt him with your Gigantor hands.” Once the until recently human-shaped angel is on his bed, Dean turns back to his brother. “Dude just popped in, yelled at me, told me to get my head out of my ass, and left!”  
  
“He didn’t say anything else? Didn’t taunt you or brag about anything?”  
  
“No!”  
  
There’s silence for a moment, then, at Sam’s bemused expression, Dean glances to his own left hand, and sees it’s settled on Cas’s fur. He’s been stroking it absently in an unconscious attempt to calm himself down. Cas’s eyes are at half-mast and glazed with lazy pleasure, and he’s leaning into the touch.  
  
It’s weird. The fluffy head is just between where his hand had been and his right arm, which he had been reaching for defensively. He hadn’t meant to touch Cas at all.  
  
Dean snatches back his hand quickly. The kitten that used to be an angel of the Lord squawks in indignant disapproval and then has the presence of mind to look ashamed of himself.  
  
“Dude, you know he’s not actually a cat, right?” Sam is having way too much fun with this. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d swear Sam and Gabe had the same sense of humor.  
  
“Shut up. Finish your rabbit food.”  
  
Still grinning, Sam makes sure the door is locked and sits back down. If he sees the way Dean sneaks Cas bites of burger, he doesn’t say anything.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The next morning finds Cas stretched out at the foot of Dean’s bed. The elder Winchester wakes first and, taking advantage of his brother’s laziness, he snags the first shower.  
  
When he comes back out, he discovers an angel curled up on his still warm pillow. Those big blue orbs focus on him and he feels oddly exposed, despite the towel around his waist. He grabs his bag and beats a hasty retreat.  
  
The next time he returns, Sam and Cas are staring at each other from opposite beds. Sam has a sort of pinched expression, like he feels maybe he should be researching a solution, but also kinda doesn’t want to parade around in his boxers. The relief in his face when Dean’s shifting makes Cas turn is pretty evident.  
  
“Mew.” Somehow, kitten Cas makes that one syllable sound like “good morning.”  
  
“Hey, Cas. Hungry? Thirsty? Need a litter box? Oh, who am I kidding, you can’t understand me. You’re a cat, for crying out loud!”  
  
Cas stares at Dean for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “Mew,” he says again.  
  
The Winchesters glance at each other.  
  
“OK, maybe you can understand me. So, hungry?”  
  
There’s a definite no radiating off of the kitten. He looks as though he’s trying to figure out if it’s possible for humans to spontaneously combust from their own stupid.  
  
When Dean and Sam give him matching blank looks, he huffs out a breath (which is more difficult in a cat-shaped vessel) and vanishes. He reappears on Dean’s shoulder half a breath later.  
  
“Oh.” Sam nods like whatever just happened makes perfect sense to him.  
  
“Oh?” Dean growls, forehead furrowed.  
  
“He’s still got enough grace to not need anything,” explains Sam, gesturing to the kitten perched on his brother’s shoulder.  
  
Dean twists his head to look at Cas, who looks fairly smug, a comfortable expression on a cat. In this form, the angel is much easier to read. It might be the tail.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Sam takes the Impala and spends the day at the library, looking for leads. Dean, with Cas tucked safely into his jacket, trudges through the snow to the nearest diner. They’d agreed not to leave the rather defenseless kitten of the Lord unattended.  
  
Dean doesn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but the heat Cas’s tiny body generates is much appreciated. He pulls his head down a bit more and sighs in relief when he sees that he’s made it to the diner.  
  
He stomps inside and sits at the counter, taking a moment to thaw before actually examining his surroundings in detail. The older woman smiles at him with one corner of her mouth, the other corner occupied with her cigarette. She takes a long drag and pours him a cup of coffee without needing to be asked.  
  
“Whatcha want, honey?” she asks.  
  
Dean smiles back at her, automatically turning on the charm. “How’s your pie?”  
  
Her smile broadens into something a little more genuine, and more than a little pleased. “Best in town.”  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
Dean reaches for his pocket and accidentally bumps Cas’s hiding place. The cat lets out a cry and all motion in the diner stops. The little black head pokes out of the leather and glares at the offending hand. Dean tenses, ready for action.  
  
The other customers relax immediately at the sight of the kitten, most smiling. Dean, the jig up, picks Cas up and places him up on the counter. A saucer of milk appears that is completely ignored in favor of demanding Dean’s apology for a bumpy ride in stuffy conditions.  
  
“Look, Cas, I’m sorry man,” Dean hisses under his breath, leaning in. “We don’t really have a lot of options here.” He extends a placating hand and is allowed to gently pet the soft fur of Cas’s head.  
  
“I’m sorry about this,” Dean apologizes to the woman behind the counter. “Saw the poor thing shivering out in the cold, just couldn’t let him freeze.” The lies come out easy and he shrugs. His smile turns self-deprecating. “What can I say? He’s just a kitten and I’m a softie.”  
  
The diner returns to its natural state, full of truckers and locals. Nobody pays much attention to Dean, although most of them extend a hand to stroke Cas on their way out. Surprisingly to both of them, he seems to be enjoying it.  
  
One of the locals comes over, sits down next to Dean. He extends a hand, introduces himself. Cas sniffs the hand when it turns to him, deems it safe.  
  
Turns out, the guy’s a cat lover. Has three of them at home.  
  
“If you’re looking for someone to take him off your hands,” he says, gesticulating with one hand and eliciting purring with the other, “I’m more than happy.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Dean replies, reaching over to scratch under the cat’s chin. “He’s starting to grow on me.”  
  
“Meow,” Cas agrees.  
  
“There is something I’m looking for, though,” he continues. “Do you know the owner of the bar downtown?”  
  
The man bursts out laughing. “Son,” he chuckles, “you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that. This is Wisconsin.”  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The library isn’t much help, but Sam had known it was a long shot going in. It gives him a better perspective on the town, though, which he appreciates.  
  
From the outside, it seems like an odd choice for demonic invasion. But it’s the apocalypse and hidden motives are sort of that side’s whole plan, so.  
  
He’s just marked down a tenth hunt that they might be able to look into if they live through this year when Dean calls. He scowls, wishing he’d remembered to put his phone on vibrate.  
  
“What?” he hisses out, stalking towards the exit.  
  
“Come and pick us up. We’ve got the address for the bar.” Dean sounds fairly cheerful, all things considered. Diner must have excellent pie.  
  
“What, Cas helped?” asks Sam, letting out a breath as he makes it out the door. He watches it curl in the cold air for a moment.  
  
“Yeah, actually. We made a pretty good team.” There’s a yowl of agreement in the background from Dean’s end. Sam can hear the grin in his brother’s voice as he continues, “Turns out people’ll tell you plenty of things if you have a cute kitten with you.”  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The bar they’ve been directed to is instantly recognizable to anyone in the know. There’s sigils and wards tucked away and the few people haunting it have that look that all hunters get after a while. It’s weirdly familiar and it smells kind of like the Roadhouse did.  
  
The bartender’s eyes catch on the boys, take in all the details. He nods briefly at them and reaches for the whiskey. Without bothering to hide his motions, he pours a generous measure of whiskey into two shot glasses and tops them off with holy water.  
  
The Winchesters down them, Dean without taking his eyes off of the bartender’s. When he’s sufficiently convinced that neither of them are demons, he nods again and offers his hand.  
  
“What are ya hunting, boys? Name’s Jameson.”  
  
His eyes (the only real indicator of his emotions) widen a fraction at their last name and he asks after their father. There’s no change in his expression when he hears John’s dead, but he pours them both another round and grabs another glass for himself.  
  
The only time he smiles, and even then it’s slight, is when he asks the boys about Bobby. He doesn’t reminisce for long, though.  
  
“Have you had an upswing in demonic activity recently?” Sam asks, somehow managing to pull out that puppy look he’s perfected over the years.  
  
It isn’t as effective as it would be on other people, but Jameson gives the younger Winchester a considering look and shrugs.  
  
“Yeah, a bit. Before the last week or so, we had it under control.” He gestures at the hunters around the room, “But now we’re all that’s left in central Wisconsin.”  
  
Jameson gives them directions to where the demons have been known to lurk, another round of shots, and an offer of help later if they need it.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
There’s not much they can do without more information, so the boys head back to their room until later. They’ll head out after dark to scope out the lair, but for now? Nap time.  
  
They bicker for a bit over who’ll get the food, but when Cas leaps up onto Dean’s lap, the battle is won. The kitten is pretty obviously not moving, and he butts his head into Dean’s hand. His impatience abates once he’s being scratched behind his ears, though, and he settles down for the long haul.  
  
“Cas, should I-” Sam hesitates, “Is there anything you want me to grab?”  
  
“Mroooow,” is the reply, with an insistent shake of the head. The head tilts to the side to allow Dean’s fingers better access. When the fingers move away from the spot where Cas wants them, he fidgets and repositions himself until they’re correct again.  
  
Sam smirks at Dean like he thinks he’s been whipped by a freakin’ cat and closes the door behind him. The pillow projectile lobbed at him hits it and slides to the floor.  
  
Dean lays back, and Cas follows him to invade the expanse of his stomach. Dean looks at him in askance. Instead of responding, Cas nestles in against the warm, soft cotton of the t-shirt there.  
  
When Sam gets in, a bag in each hand, he finds both of them napping. Cas startles awake as the door closes, and jumps off of Dean. The cat looks like he got caught committing terrible acts.  
  
Sam sits at the table and beckons Cas over. He hasn’t really gotten a chance to examine what Gabriel did to the other angel, and with Dean asleep, this might be his best opportunity. Cas still looks vaguely mortified at having been seen to do something so feline, but he endures the inspection.  
  
Turns out, there’s physically no difference between Cas in this form and an actual kitten. Sam isn’t the least bit surprised.  
  
“So, Cas. Are you finding it hard not to act like a cat?”  
  
Cas stares straight at him, but he slowly nods.  
  
There’s a rustling of wings, which somehow doesn’t manage to wake Dean, and then Gabriel is picking up Cas by the scruff of his little furry neck. He pulls the kitten up to his eye level and coos into his face. A moment later, he’s got Cas wrapped in his arms and is stroking him.  
  
“Check it out, Samsquatch! I’m totally getting my Bond villain on. Whaddaya think?” Gabe grins down at Sam, all teeth and energy.  
  
“Gabriel, why did you turn Cas into a cat?” Sam’s got bitchface #45 on, ‘this is all your fault,’ but it’s not having much effect.  
  
“Nice to see you too, Sammy. Didn’t you miss me at all?” Gabriel’s pout is at megawatt intensity, but his eyes are still smiling softly. “It’s for the benefit of our brothers, Sam. Have a little faith.”  
  
“You’re asking me to trust you?” Sam asks incredulously. “When have you done something that would make me want to trust you?”  
  
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” Gabriel offers. He does seem sincere for once.  
  
Sam shakes his head. “Look, what do we need to do for him to get back to normal?”  
  
“We?” Gabriel laughs outright, and it strikes Sam that he’s never really heard that, not that honest. “Oh, Sammy, I told you! This is about our brothers. They’re the ones who have to change their ways.”  
  
“So this is a trickster thing?” asks Sam, feeling more confused now than when the conversation started. “How is this just desserts for them? Or am I missing something?”  
  
“No. This is me being the best older brother that little Castiel has ever had. This is me giving him the family blessing. Don’t worry so much, Sammy!” Gabe slaps Sam on the back jovially, hand lingering a fraction of a second too long.  
  
“They just have to be honest with each other,” the archangel continues, “and then poof! Man-shaped angel. Just the way Dean likes him.”  
  
Sam opens his mouth to reply, but he doesn’t get far. “I know you’re gonna try and ask me for more. There are only a few things I’m not willing to give you, big boy,” Gabe says, winking, “but this is one of them. Shoot me a prayer if you want to ask for any of the others.”  
  
Cas is dropped rather unceremoniously back onto Dean’s stomach. There’s another rustling noise, and Gabe is gone.  
  
The elder Winchester bolts upright, dislodging the cat-angel. He’s ready for battle by the time Cas yowls his opinion on the subject.  
  
“What- Sam, what’s going on?” Dean’s voice is rough with sleep but his eyes are clear and his hand is steady.  
  
“Gabriel,” is the sighed response. “He stopped by to pass along a tip about his latest prank.”  
  
Dean sits up straight, and Cas resettles into the residual heat in the dip behind him. “He told you how to get Cas back into fighting shape?”  
  
Sam feels a little guilty at the way Dean’s face is filled with hope, but only a little. “Not really. He just said that you and Cas have to ‘be honest.’ And then he hit on me again.”  
  
“Dude, you should just take him up on it. It’s the end of the world, might as well have a little fun.” It takes a second, but then the implication sinks in. “Honest?”  
  
“That’s what he said.” Sam shrugs, not knowing how to put it. “He- he said he’s actually trying to be nice to Cas, he’s trying to be a decent brother.”  
  
“So he turned Cas into a cat ‘cause he wanted to help him?” There’s so much anger on Cas’s behalf that Dean looks like he can’t breathe for a second. “How is this being helpful? And why do I have to be involved?”  
  
Sam shoots him this look, like he can’t possibly believe Dean could ever be this stupid. But he rolls his eyes and pushes on, “He told you that he wanted you to pull your head out of your ass, right? So the two are connected. Dean, this is the best lead we’ve got.”  
  
“You’re saying I’m the reason Cas is a ball of fuzz?” Dean looks a bit hurt and sort of guilty, maybe just a tad worried that Sam actually is saying that. And starting to get angry. “You’re saying this is my fault?”  
  
“I’m saying Gabriel wants to hear you and Cas say- something.” A grown man as huge as Sam should not be able to make himself seem so small. But he’s been trying not to cause too much tension between them, at least until the end of the world.  
  
“And how’s that gonna work, huh?” sighs Dean and deflates, defeated by the sight of his little brother hunched up like that. “Cas can’t exactly talk.”  
  
He lifts the kitten up and plops him on his lap. “What is he supposed to do, meow once for yes, twice for no?”  
  
Cas voices his agreement to the skepticism, loudly and with much enthusiasm. Dean grins down at him and claps a hand to where the angel’s shoulders would be. They both shoot Sam the same smug look, and he tries not to laugh at them.  
  
“We can figure it out after we deal with these demons, anyway,” Dean continues, laying back down. “Get some sleep, Sam.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wakes first, to find that Cas has snuggled into his side and actually asleep. He tries to extricate himself without waking the angel, but he finds two luminous eyes staring back at him as soon as he moves.  
  
“Don’t wake Sam yet,” he hisses at the kitten. “I’m gonna go get coffee.”  
  
He gets back and finds Cas curled up into Sam’s back, both of them dead to the world. The door closing causes them both to stir and tense, though.  
  
“Just me. Ready for a stake-out, Sam?” he asks, fulfilling his older sibling requirements for the day by tossing a bag of snacks at Sam’s face and then sitting on the younger man’s feet. “Demons wait for no man. Or cat.”  
  
Cas rubs up against Dean’s ankles to demonstrate his appreciation at being included. He then appears to be very unhappy with himself and feigns disinterest on the other side of the room until the boys are ready to leave.  
  
Dean parks the Impala uphill from the house full of demons, and the brothers settle in for the night. Cas starts in the backseat, but before the first hour is over, he’s planted on the seat between the Winchesters.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Absolutely nothing happens. At all.  
  
Every time either brother starts to fall asleep, itty-bitty kitten claws gouge into the skin of their legs.  
  
They leave just before dawn, bored and irritable. Sam looks like he’s ready to just charge in and kill anything and everything in sight, but also like he know that it’d be a terrible decision. And just slightly like he doesn’t care and wants to do it anyway. Possibly just to see what would happen.  
  
Dean drives them to the diner he and Cas visited earlier, parks, and helps his sleepy brother up the stairs to the door. It’s odd- they’re used to all-nighters, they’re used to no sleep. But for some reason, they’re exhausted after one little failed stake-out.  
  
He doesn’t dwell on it. There’s pie in all manner of flavors waiting for him inside.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
They go back to the bar to see Jameson as soon as it’s open. He assures them that they had the right location, that he really is trying to help.  
  
Turns out, Cas wasn’t gonna sit in the car by himself. He’s managed to slip into Dean’s pocket, and he pokes his head out.  
  
The two other hunters in the bar already have their guns in hand. They relax only a fraction when they see it’s just a baby cat. Sam flashes a quick smile at them and raises Cas out to put him on the bar.  
  
Dean tries to lie, tries to say he’s just a kitten, but these are hunters. Not just any hunters, either. They’ve been in the business for years, and they know to pay attention when something feels off. Sam just lets out a quiet sigh and explains, in the broadest terms possible, that their friend got turned into a cat by some witches.  
  
Nobody tries to kill either them or Cas, so Dean counts it as a win.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
There’s not much they can do for the rest of the day, really. They’ll try staking the place out again tonight, but every time they suggest going sooner, Cas hisses and claws at their fleshy bits.   
  
So staying in it is.  
  
Sam, in an effort to kill some time, prays to Gabriel. He knows it’s probably useless, but he gives it a shot anyway.  
  
Dean and Cas slink off to Dean’s bed for some soul-staring or eye-fucking or whatever they call it between themselves. It’s more creepy now that one of them is feline.   
  
Sam ignores it. With as much effort as he can muster.  
  
Eventually, with other two asleep (and cuddling, in broad terms- not that Sam will ever tell them), he gets an answer.  
  
“Hey, Samsquatch. You missed me, didn’t you?” Gabe’s got this smile that could put any veteran whore to shame. It’s also so bright and hopeful that Sam feels instantly bad, even though he knows it can’t be real. “It’s been what, less than a day?”  
  
Gabriel perches on the end of Sam’s bed, and he’s got this air to him like he’s gonna run any second. But he’s sticking around long enough to hear Sam out, and he came when asked, so maybe he’s actually trying to convince Sam to trust him. Maybe he’s trying to change.  
  
Sam doubts it.  
  
   
  
“Tell me more about this kitten thing,” he tries, going for a neutral topic. “Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
Gabe shakes his head, still smiling like an idiot. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy… This isn’t your problem. You’ve gotta let them work it out on their own.” He moves to sit next to Sam at the table. Really close.  
  
“But that can’t be the only reason you called me down here, Sammy.” The archangel shifts a bit closer, which surprisingly is still an option. “Were you thinking about what I said?”  
  
Sam leans away so he can look right at Gabriel. “I- actually, can you help us with these demons? We staked out their lair last night, but…” he trails off. “We could use it.”  
  
“Now, why would I do that?” The angel’s eyes keep flicking to Sam’s lips. It’s a little distracting, to be honest. “Gonna give me a little incentive, Sammy-boy?”  
  
Sam stands up to put some distance between them. “How ‘bout to get me to trust you?”  
  
Gabe straightens up. “Oh,” he sighs, sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah, all right. I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
In less time than it takes him to blink, Sam is the only conscious one in the room. He’s resigned to his fate. But he’s not happy about it.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
This time, their stake-out does yield results. It also yields an annoying archangel occupying the back seat. Dean is only barely not commenting, partly because Cas is glaring at Gabriel for both of them, and partly because of the look on Sam’s face.  
  
Yeah. He doesn’t want to think about why his little brother looks so happy and hopeful. He just doesn’t. He might never recover.  
  
It’s as good a time as any to move in. The demons aren’t expecting them, don’t even know they’re in town. And they’ve got an archangel on their side.  
  
The Winchesters load up by the side of the road, guns and holy water and more salt. There’s not much more they can do, not yet. But Sam pulls Gabe aside before they head down to the house that the demons are in.  
  
Dean can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can gather a few things from Sam’s expressions. For whatever reason, Gabriel is gonna give them a hand. And he’s doing it because Sam asked.  
  
Cas, once again, has refused the safe interior of the car. Instead, he’s nestled against Dean, the jacket zipped up to keep him in place.  
  
It’s slow going down to the house that’s serving as a lair. There are bushes and trees that didn’t seem formidable from the Impala but that are doing their damnedest to get in the way. The snow and ice are, of course, not helping in any way whatsoever.  
  
The approach to the building is fairly clear, however, and it doesn’t take all that long before they’re pressed up against an exterior wall. Dean signals for Sam and Gabe to go around the other side. As soon as they’re out of sight, he edges around the corner and heads for the door.  
  
The house is fairly empty. Gabriel volunteers himself, communicating with hand signals, to check the upstairs. Nothing’s up there, either.  
  
All that’s left is the basement.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Years of practice have given the boys the ability to move silently. Even Gabriel appears to be somewhat impressed. The stairs down to the basement (thankfully) don’t creak, and the five demons gathered in the dank room don’t stir.  
  
Sam suspects their archangel shadow might have had something to do with that.  
  
None of them like the setup. It’s feels as though they could be walking into an ambush, and the dark corners and branching hallways mean they don’t actually know how many enemies are down there with them. If Gabe has any idea, he isn’t sharing.  
  
Dean starts to edge around the perimeter, Cas prowling with him, lets the the other two handle the situation. Sam makes a few hand gestures to Gabriel, who snaps his fingers and a devil’s trap appears on the floor around the demons.  
  
Sure enough, once it surrounds them, they raise a cry of alarm, and six more demons rush in. Dean gets the first one with Ruby’s knife (they’ve got to stop calling it that) straight to the chest. Gabriel nods at Sam to start exorcising the ones in the trap. The angel then turns to the two nearest adversaries and smites the hell out of them.  
  
Dean’s got the fourth on the ropes, but that leaves his back exposed to the fifth. Gabriel’s got his enough on his plate keeping Sam safe from the sixth. When the fifth makes her move, Dean’s done for. Really, he’s screwed. He’s still fighting one of them, after all, and the thing’s a nasty bugger.  
  
Cas, the only one of them unoccupied and still unnoticed, leaps to the defense of his favorite Winchester. His claws are barely big enough to be pinpricks, and there’s no way that would slow down a human, let alone a demon. But maybe he’s still got some mojo left in him, because somehow the thing can’t quite throw him off.  
  
The demon thrashes around the room wildly. By the time Dean’s finished up on his opponent, Cas is in danger of being thrown against a wall.  
  
Dean’s got a soft spot for animals, both of the boys do. Always have. And the tiny ball of fluff that just saved his life is also his best friend.  
  
This demon is going to pay.  
  
It’s suitably distracted, so Dean doesn’t have to worry about himself. He just reaches for all that rage he bottles up and unleashes it all on the demon.  
  
Poor thing never stands a chance.  
  
When everything that isn’t Team Free Will-friendly is absolutely never moving again (and don’t think he didn’t check), Dean scrambles to snatch up Cas from the ground. The cat had detached his claws as soon as possible to get out of the way. Dean’s not taking any chances, though.  
  
Soon, he’s got Cas in one hand and is using the other to check for injuries hidden under the fur. About this time, Gabriel’s got Sam by the shoulders and is grinning like a maniac. They’re both smiling away when they turn to Dean, and both of their smiles drop as they notice what Dean’s doing. Sam jerks out of Gabriel’s grasp and comes over, concern clearly written in all the lines of his body.  
  
“Is he-?” Sam can’t quite bring himself to finish the question, for fear of what just hearing it might do to his brother.  
  
“No, Sam, he’s fine,” Dean reassures him. “But he’s kinda out of it. Cas?” He raises the kitten closer to him. “Cas, can you hear me?”  
  
“Mew,” comes the dazed response. Cas’s eyes blink up at the human holding him, a little muzzy but none the worse for the wear. “Mew,” he says again, a little more firmly. The side of himself he’s bringing out with just this force of will is a sight for sore eyes to the brothers.  
  
Dean is so relieved to see the Cas he know is back, even for a moment, that he can’t manage to breathe properly. That’s new. Nobody seems to notice, he thinks.  
  
“Good. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Gabriel looks a little too knowing and his smirk is a little too broad for Dean’s taste. Or Sam’s comfort.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The ride back to the motel is made in silence. Gabe said he’d meet them there, leaving them with a cheesy pickup line (directed at Sam) and a candy bar (Dean’s favorite). They’re both so drained, and Dean’s body is starting to feel the exertion from the fight.  
  
Dean wants to fall right into bed, but there’s Cas, right at his feet, herding him into the shower. Sam’s amused expression is the most annoying thing that has ever existed. But he doesn’t say anything, for which his brother is grateful.  
  
Gabriel immediately takes advantage of Dean’s absence to move into Sam’s personal space.  
  
“So, Sam,” he starts, oozing as much charm as he can. “Nice work on the demons back there.”  
  
Well, that was pathetic. Sam’s disappointed by it, actually; Gabe’s got millennia of practice doesn’t he?Shouldn’t he be better at this? “Um, thank you?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.  
  
“I couldn’t help but notice the way you said that exorcism, the way your mouth wrapped around those words,” coos the archangel, inching a hand towards Sam’s knee. “I think you know where I’m going with this.”  
  
Sam can’t help it- he bursts out laughing. “That’s the best you’ve got?” A few minutes later, he’s swiping at his streaming eyes as the giggles die off. “Wow. Just, wow.”  
  
Gabriel’s got the happiest look on his face, like all of his dreams have come true. On his birthday. And his brothers have stopped fighting, and they’re coming home.  
  
“You’re laughing. I made you laugh!” Gabe claps his hands, eyes sparkling.  
  
“I- Were you hitting on me just to see if you could make me laugh?” Sam knows he shouldn’t be unhappy about that, knows he should be glad that’s all the angel wanted. But he’d thought Gabriel was trying to gain their trust, and lying about his motives isn’t the best first step.   
  
That’s why. Definitely.  
  
“Well,” comes the smooth reply, “I wouldn’t mind if you’re interested.”  
  
Sam isn’t sure what’s happening, but before he can respond, Dean comes back out of the bathroom.  
  
“So you’re still here, huh, Gabe? Good. We need to chat. Sam,” he says, glancing over at his brother, “Grab some food, huh? That diner’s open all night. Don’t forget the pie.”  
  
There’s dismissive waving motions, then Dean’s pulling up a chair and Sam finds himself outside with the keys in his pocket. Shaking his head, he leaves.  
  
“Dean-o! What can I do ya for?” Gabriel’s been expecting this conversation, Dean is sure of it. “This isn’t about my intentions towards your baby brother, is it?”  
  
“You’re what? No, I, I wanted to ask about Cas.”  
  
At the sound of his name, the decidedly no longer angelic-looking angel dashes over. He looks up at Dean, asking a question. The nod of confirmation is all he needs, and then he uses Dean’s lap as a stepping stool to get on the table. Once there, he concentrates all his considerable focus on glaring holes into his brother’s head.  
  
“Sam said that you want us to be honest,” states Dean, just the hint of an inquiry in the inflection.  
  
Gabriel lets out a hugely resigned sigh. “You haven’t figured it out yet, either of you? No, of course you haven’t. Don’t know why I bother.” He sits up suddenly, alarmingly. “Look, it’s not that hard.”  
  
“If it’s not that hard, why does Cas still have whiskers?” Dean grits out.  
  
“Because you’re idiots.”  
  
Dean has to laugh at that. “I walked into that one, didn’t I? Fine. What are we supposed to be honest about? Or is it more like, we have to tell the truth, all day, every day?”  
  
“How ‘bout you start with telling little Cassie where ol’ Zach took you?” Gabriel asks, leaning in. “How ‘bout you tell him how you didn’t like what you found there? Or about the Cas you found there?”  
  
OK, that’s just not on. That’s seriously playing dirty.  
  
“Dude, uncool.” Dean hates those memories. The men he’d found there looked so familiar, but they’d been so broken, so wrong. And the emptiness in Cas’s eyes…   
  
“ That is not gonna happen, it doesn’t need to be brought up. Cas isn’t gonna end up like that. I’m not gonna end up like that.”  
  
Gabriel huffs out a low chuckle. “You ever think why you’re so happy every time Cassie shows up? Why you don’t like when he goes off on his own? It’s not just ‘cause you worry about him, I’ll tell you that much.”  
  
The archangel turns to the kitten who’s still trying to make him explode via willpower. “Cassie, you have to think, too. You’ve been doing a lot of stupid things for this human. Why is that?”  
  
With that, Gabriel blinks out before they can ask anything else.  
  
Cas and Dean stare at each other for a long minute. Their conversations haven’t changed much, despite one of them being a cat.  
  
Eventually, Sam slips in, yawning. He’s got an entire pie in one of his enormous paws and there’s a mix of enticing smells wafting off the bag in the other.  
  
“Dude, I got deep-fried cheese,” is all he says, putting the food down. He then makes a beeline for the shower.  
  
Quite a large portion is gone by the time he gets back, but Dean did manage to save him some pie. Sam appreciates the gesture, even if he doesn’t hold the same reverence for it as his brother.  
  
It’s a testament to how beat Dean is that some of Sam’s vegetables are missing.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The Winchesters don’t make it all the way through dinner. There’s been a general sleepiness and drifting off taking place, but after a while they can’t stay upright any longer. Neither bothers to remove their clothing, they just crash into their respective beds.  
  
They awake the next morning (despite the hours they’ve kept, certain routines have been drilled into them) to discover Cas has gotten into the pie. Entirely into it. His fur is matted with sticky cherry filling, which makes him look even smaller and more fragile.  
  
The boys bite back laughs and Dean scoops the kitten up to carry him into the bathroom. Cas, just waking up from his sugar coma, finds this extremely objectionable. He claws and writhes his way out of the hands clutching at him, makes his way up Dean’s arm to sit on his head. For such a tiny thing, he can dig into soft flesh pretty far.  
  
By the time Dean maneuvers both of them into the bathroom, he’s covered in the remains of the pie, too. There’s nothing for it- he’ll have to shower to remove the mess.  
  
As soon as the door to the bathroom closes, Sam lets out the laughter that’s been building inside him. The look on the other two’s faces had been priceless. And Cas just turned one of Dean’s favorite shirt pink.  
  
He decides it’s better to get the whole thing over with and wash both of them at the same time.  
  
Apparently, this is what Cas had assumed from the beginning. Dean knows this because, as he reaches to undo his belt, the vicious attack on his scalp resumes.  
  
Dean, as slowly, carefully as he can, eases Cas off. He sets the no-longer-looks-like-it-but-can-defintely-still-make-you-hurt angel on the counter by the sink.  
  
“Cas,” he says, bending so they’re on a level, “I was gonna just wash it out in the sink. But now you’ve got me covered in it, too. I gotta get this stuff off before it gets any worse, for both of us. Just hold still, all right? I’m not gonna hurt you.”  
  
This seems to mollify Cas, because he stops fighting. He actually appears somewhat ashamed of himself for leaping to conclusions like that.  
  
Dean’s relieved that Cas doesn’t watch him undress. It’s a strange thought, not anything he’s let himself dwell on before.  
  
Dean’s never had a problem with nudity. After all, it’s one of his favorite states. But maybe it’s something about the way the angel’s piercing blue eyes can seem to look through him, can make him feel exposed. Make him feel naked when he’s got layers and layers on.  
  
He shakes off the thought, makes a grab for the cat. When he’s sure Cas isn’t going to work against him, he slides them both into the shower. The heat control is a mite finicky (they always are), but he’s got years of practice in just this area.  
  
Cas is still radiating discomfort, so Dean makes sure to take the brunt of the spray. When it does hit the kitten, his head pops up.  
  
Cas purrs his approval, liking the whole plan now that it’s happening. The water is warm, Dean’s got him in a safe embrace, and he’s a cat. Sure, he can’t communicate very clearly, and he’s weak and vulnerable (not to mention how degrading the experience is). But he’s doesn’t have any responsibilities, he doesn’t have to search fruitlessly, endlessly for God, and the Winchesters take care of their own. It’s not a bad life.  
  
He misses his trench coat, though.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Sam can hear the water shut off from the other room. He’s just finished gathering up their clothes, knowing that his brother is going to want to do laundry now that his shirt is sticky. There’s a laundromat not too far from the diner they’ve been haunting, and Sam’s been going through the pockets of their jeans for quarters.  
  
There’s a sort of worrying crash that comes from the bathroom. Dean’s swearing is muffled but audible, and Cas is yowling more than loud enough for the entire motel to hear. And that’s not good; motels can have some very strict policies about pets, and they’re booked for another night.  
  
“You need any help?” Sam calls, wincing as various noises keep reaching him. “You’re not killing him in there, are you?”  
  
A loud thump answers him, and then quiet descends. Dean opens the door, towel around his waist. He’s carrying a a lump covered in another towel that can only be Cas, and he’s sporting some interesting bumps and scratches.  
  
Dean rubs the towel over Cas’s head a few times before depositing him on his bed. “Got any quarters?” he asks, rooting around in his duffel for something to wear. “I wanna get this cherry stuff off my shirt before it dries.”  
  
“Way ahead of you.”  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The laundromat is almost completely empty. It’s not really that surprising- they’re in a smaller town with terrible driving conditions, thanks to the weather. And nobody wants to do their laundry before breakfast.  
  
Nobody, including Dean.  
  
They handle the argument over who gets to stay in the tried and true Winchester method of rock, paper, scissors. Dean, once again, loses, meaning he has to face the bitter wind outside in a quest to get coffee. Sam, pleased with himself, offers Cas his lap. The kitten declines and pads after Dean, meowing to get his attention.  
  
With the two of them gone, Sam settles in. Watching the clothes is hypnotizing, and the building is just this side of too warm. It’s not long before he drifts off.  
  
He isn’t asleep long enough for a dream, thankfully. But he wakes to a gentle pressure along his side and someone calling his name. Sam snaps awake and glances over to see Gabriel peering at him curiously.  
  
“Heya, Sammy.”  
  
“Gabriel,” Sam yawns, “what are you doing here?”  
  
Gabe smirks at him knowingly. “You were calling my name, Samsquatch. I’m just answering your prayers.”  
  
Oh shit. If Sam’s been talking in his sleep again, he’s never gonna live it down. Not to mention the looks he’ll be getting for mentioning Gabriel.  
  
They just sit there for some time, Gabriel apparently content to watch fabric swirl around. Sam keeps shooting looks over at him, but neither talk for a long while. The only real sound between them is the occasional munching as the “trickster” satisfies his sweet tooth.  
  
The first round of clothes finish up, and Gabriel snaps his fingers to load the next batch. Sam nods at him in thanks. After another couple minutes of silence, Sam can’t stand to wait any longer. “So you’re just gonna sit here and do laundry with me in some backwater Wisconsin town?”  
  
“I think you’re stressing the wrong bit of that sentence, kiddo,” Gabriel drawls lazily. “I’m doing it with you.”  
  
“Seriously?” The levels of incredulity emanating off of Sam are fairly impressive. “You wanna do this? Here? You could be doing literally anything else.”  
  
“Look, Sammy, you’re supposed to be the smart one. This is an easy concept to grasp.” Gabriel stands up to lean over Sam, steps in so that Sam has to part his knees. “I like spending time with you.”  
  
And this is something all those years of Winchester training haven’t prepared him for. The archangel Gabriel is not only flirting with him, he’s pretty much admitting to having a crush. In a mostly empty laundromat in Wisconsin. If being in surreal situations wasn’t his average Tuesday, Sam would probably be flipping out.  
  
As it is, he’s still too stunned to reply right away. It feels like Gabe’s waiting for some response, but Sam doesn’t know what the question is. No, that’s not true- he knows the question, he’s just not sure about his answer.  
  
Thankfully, he’s saved from having to say anything, because a large cup of coffee is thrust under Gabe’s nose.  
  
“Morning, asshat. Figured you’d be here.” Dean hands a second cup to Sam and takes the seat next to him. He locks eyes with the archangel who’s trying, and failing miserably, to look innocent. “How’s trying to get in my brother’s pants going?”  
  
Sam lets out the most hilarious squawk Dean’s ever heard as he flushes beet red. “Dean!” he exclaims, scandalized.  
  
Gabriel’s laughing at the two of them, having recovered from his surprise at Dean’s words.  
  
“Not going all that great, no,” he returns easily. “Got any tips?”  
  
Sam should stop this, right the hell now. But even Castiel the cat looks like he’s glad everyone’s getting along (for once). And Dean’s starting to get this grin on his face, the one that means the sort of trouble their dad had always hated.  
  
It’s the grin he’d had not too long after Sam had found Nair in his shampoo. And the one he’d had that time he’d decided to draw out a poltergeist so Sam and Dad could salt and burn the corpse. Or that time he’d picked a fight with a man twice his size after the guy had pushed a young Sam.  
  
It’s a grin that hasn’t been seen in far too long. It’s a grin that means shit’s about to get real.  
  
Sam snags Cas and hunkers down to avoid the collateral damage.  
  
“Depends. What do I get for the information?” Dean’s tone would be dangerously insubordinate to any being other than Gabriel.  
  
Gabriel hums in thought, glancing over to rake his gaze up and down Sam’s large frame. When he sees that he’s been caught looking, he winks, thoroughly unapologetic. “How ‘bout a hint? For your Cat-stiel problem.”  
  
Dean visibly considers this for a moment, smile slipping as he turns serious. He clearly wants his Cas back, but despite everything, it’s still Gabriel. Still the trickster who killed him so many times, still the archangel who’s dicked them around.  
  
“Give them more than a hint and I’ll tell you myself,” Sam cuts in.  
  
Gabriel seems inordinately pleased with himself, as if this had been his plan from the beginning. Castiel is staring at Dean, whose face is turning a rather interesting shade.  
  
“You have got yourself a deal, Sammy-boy,” sing-songs Gabriel as he saunters over to drag Sam to his feet. “I’ll be taking you up on that.”  
  
Cas has at some point switched his intense concentration over to Sam. It’s even more unnerving with Dean matching it.  
  
“Sam,” Dean tries, but he doesn’t get far.  
  
“All right, little bro, let’s see what we can do here.” Gabriel crouches by Castiel and says something in his ear. When he straightens up again, he winks at Sam, nods at Dean, and mojos out.  
  
Cas is staring at Dean, who catches his eye and silence washes over the room.  
  
Sam doesn’t think he wants to know.  
  
“Cas, what did he say to you?” Quiet never lasts long in this family, Sam should know that by now.  
  
Castiel’s tiny kitten head tilts to the side, and the familiarity of it causes the tension in Dean’s shoulders to ease slightly. He’s so much better than Sam is at relaxing Dean, even in this form. Maybe even better, like those animals they take into hospitals. Maybe all Dean and Dad ever needed was a cat.  
  
Sam’s train of thought gets derailed when Dean shakes his head and announces, “I forgot about the ‘cats can’t talk’ thing again.”  
  
Cas seems very amused by this.


	3. Chapter 3

They swing by the bar as soon as it’s open. Jameson’s wiping down tables, but he pulls them each a beer and wishes them luck. He also hands them his number (if they’re ever in the neighborhood) and a small package that he claims is for Bobby’s hands only.  
  
There’s some thanks and future offers of help from both sides. The two other hunters hanging around this early try to buy the boys another round, but not even Dean wants to start really drinking at this hour, and certainly not today. Instead, the Winchesters head back to their motel. They’re paid up for another night, the case is over, and they haven’t managed much sleep in the last few days.  
  
A long day of napping and maybe some crappy television sounds just about right.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
It’s well into the night when Dean wakes for the third time.  
  
They haven’t had a chance to enjoy a day of nothing for quite a while. Usually he makes an effort to work in breaks, but this year has been kind of busy. What with the end of the world, and all.  
  
So it’s been the laziest day Dean can think of off the top of his head. There’s been a feeling in the air, and he knows Sam’s felt it too, a lethargy that they haven’t really been able to shake. Giving in to it is probably not their brightest idea, but they’re known for bad decision-making. Have to be consistent somewhere.  
  
This time as Dean yawns and stretches, he finds a furry lump of warmth located on his chest. Cas is purring softly in the darkened room. The side of his head is pressed directly over where Dean’s heartbeat is loudest.  
  
When Dean shifts, two luminous blue eyes slide open to glare softly at him. “Hey, Cas,” he murmurs, moving a hand and landing it on the fluffy feline belly. “Sorry I woke you.”  
  
The only response he gets is louder purring and a tiny head nuzzling farther into his chest.  
  
They drift back off to sleep, Castiel scooting upward to tuck himself under Dean’s chin.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Silence reigns in the Impala until after Wisconsin is just a speck in the rear-view mirror. Dean hasn’t bothered to pop in a cassette. It goes unnoticed, with both of them caught up in their own thoughts.  
  
Even Castiel is down some mental track of his own, ears flicking back and forth, staring unblinkingly at Dean’s profile. He’s been doing it all the time recently, since Gabriel whispered whatever it was to him. It’s not the sort of staring he usually does, either, in this really odd way Dean can’t quite put his finger on.  
  
It’s down right unsettling, is what it is.  
  
And Sam hasn’t said anything at all. Not about Dean putting on Dr. Sexy, M.D. (again), not about Gabriel, not about the route they’re taking (which Dean may have altered just for this reason). The most he’s done is grunt an affirmative or two.  
  
To be fair, Dean hasn’t really said much, either. He’s just a bit more worried about what that dick archangel might have told Cas. And here Dean was finally starting to thaw towards him a little. Maybe. Sort of.  
  
Not too far into Minnesota, Dean pulls over to a rest stop. He figures his overgrown little brother could use a chance to stretch his legs, and he needs to take care of certain bodily functions himself.  
  
As the car stops, Castiel stirs from his reverie and attempts to follow Dean. There’s not much any human can do against a determined angel, no matter what form that angel is in. But Cas must get the “stay put and keep out of trouble” message, because he doesn’t leave the Impala. He manages some mournful gazing after Dean, though.  
  
Sam ignores their ridiculously complicated, ridiculously annoying love story in favor of heading for a soda machine. It’s so obvious to him (and the world at large) that Dean Winchester has a big gay crush on the angel of Thursday. And that said angel has developed romantic notions in return. It was kinda funny at first, but now it’s just sad.  
  
What Sam expects to find as he opens his soda is a bit of refreshment. Instead, he finds a lollipop attached to a slip of paper that springs out and somehow lands in his hand. On the paper are a phone number and a smiley face.  
  
He pockets both for later, not ready yet to face Gabriel. He’ll call when he’s worked out what to say, but for now, avoidance is the best strategy. Well, maybe not. But it’s the only one he’s got.  
  
It takes Dean a while to return, and Castiel is getting more and more agitated next to Sam. The tip of his tail is twitching back and forth, and he keeps extending and retracting his claws. They haven’t punctured the seat, though, for which Sam is grateful.  
  
Dean comes back just as Sam decides they’ll go search for him in the ditch. He looks quite self-satisfied, which usually means one of two things. Either someone (possibly a Winchester) is getting sent home in stitches or something is now in perfect working order. Sam thinks probably the latter.   
  
From the glint in Dean’s eyes as they land on Cas, he’s right.  
  
“Dude had no clue what he was doing,” Dean says in answer to the look Sam gives him. “Showed him why you they make more than one wrench.”  
  
He has more to say, but it’s just for Cas’s ears. Besides, this isn’t really the right time or place. He’ll wait until they get to Bobby’s, which allows one or both them to run away if need be. The car doesn’t really afford them that luxury.  
  
Dean cranks the stereo and Minnesota flies by in a haze of Led Zeppelin.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Turns out, despite how eager Dean is to get to Sioux Falls, his body has other plans. They’re not all that far from hitting the Dakotas when he knows it’s not a good idea to keep driving. Sam’s fast asleep on the other side of the seat, mumbling just softly enough that the words aren’t quite distinguishable.  
  
It’s earlier than they’d normally stop for the night, but Dean brushes it off fairly easily. If they’ve been tired for the last few days, well, they have been pretty busy lately. You know, stopping the end of the world.  
  
The motel is themed, as most of them seem to be these days. Dean thinks it’s supposed to look like a hunting lodge, but it really comes off as where the owner puts all of his trophies because his wife won’t let him hang them in the house. Regardless, the beds aren’t rock hard and he can’t see any of the more suspect stains they’re used to finding.  
  
“Could be worse,” mutters Dean as he yanks Castiel away from inspecting a mounted head.  
  
The angel is used to this treatment by now.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
Sam jerks awake not long before dawn, utterly confused. A second ago, it’d felt like there was someone in the bed with him. The more coherent he becomes, though, the less possible that seems. And yet, when he puts a hand down, the blankets are faintly warm, and is that an indent in the other pillow?  
  
He reaches for his pants, pulls the slip of paper out of the pocket he’d stuffed it into. It should be hard to read in the weak light, but the numbers are glowing slightly. Archangel mojo, he supposes.  
  
He still hasn’t made up his mind on what to say to Gabriel. He’s comfortable enough with himself to admit that yes, he’d found the “trickster” attractive when they’d first met. But that was before Broward County, before all those Tuesdays.  
  
For half a minute when they’d discovered Gabe’s true identity, Sam had dared to hope. Maybe the actual archangel Gabriel wouldn’t be such a massive asshole. Maybe they could gain an ally in this whole mess. But that’s not the way their lives work.  
  
So it’s even harder to accept that now he’s being asked for a second chance. At first, he really had thought it was just another sick prank, but he isn’t as sure anymore.  
  
Gabriel being serious wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen this year. It would barely make the top fifty.  
  
Sam works the jeans on, thrusts his arms into his coat, grabs his shoes. It’s a pretty cold night, no surprise there. But Sam likes the cold, likes the way it makes him feel awake, makes Dean’s birthday feel more real.  
  
That’s usually what he remembers about the day, every year. How cold it was, how long they’d played in the snow, if there was any. And then how Dean would make them hot cocoa, maybe slip a scoop of ice cream in it, if he could snag any.  
  
Before he goes for his phone, he spends a minute or ten psyching himself up. Gabe would probably laugh at him for that, if he were here. Dean would, too.  
  
His cell is in his coat pocket, and he fumbles it between numb fingers. He does successfully dial the number eventually, and he’s just about to hang up from nerves when he hears Gabriel’s voice.  
  
“Knew you’d call, Sammykins,” is the purred greeting. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”  
  
Sam doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response. “Where are you?” he asks instead, trying to slowly work his way to the questions he actually wants answered.  
  
He can hear a muffled chuckle on the angel’s end. “On the Mediterranean. Greece. Have you ever been?” Gabriel barely pauses for breath, continuing on as if he hadn’t been anticipating a reply.  
  
“No, of course you haven’t. You don’t get out of the states often, and when you do, it’s just to find something else to kill.” It’s odd, but it sounds like Gabriel is sorry that Sam hasn’t gotten a chance to see all that much of the world. “If you survive the prize fight, maybe I’ll bring you here.”  
  
Yeah, all right, so now this conversation is making a strong argument for a spot on Sam’s Top Ten Weirdest Moments list. Neither Michael nor Lucifer have offered vacations to Europe. Gabriel’s probably the only decent archangel, as far as the Winchesters are concerned. After all, he did (eventually) bring Dean back, and he hasn’t tried to kill them since.  
  
“Gabriel,” Sam starts, then hesitates. He’d planned on drawing out the small talk a bit more, but the topic’s out there. “Are you gonna help us?”  
  
And that’s the question, really. Has been ever since Gabe popped in to chat with Dean.  
  
“More than I already have?” That’s deflection, they both know it. But Sam doesn’t push, knows he just has to give it time. A sigh crackles down the line. “I don’t know.”  
  
It’s raw-edged and honest, and Sam swallows down an apology. He does know how hard this is for Gabriel, and if he hadn’t, it’s pretty damn clear just at the moment.  
  
“I want to, Sam, I do,” Gabe continues. “Both of my brothers are wrong, but I can’t just-”  
  
The only sound is breathing for a few long minutes. When Gabriel speaks again, he sounds more composed, less human.  
  
“If you and your brother do your thing, if you go through with whatever crazy plan is in your messed up heads… Will my brothers live?”  
  
Sam can’t say anything. He wants to reassure Gabe that they’ll do what they can, but he doesn’t want to lie. He’s been where the archangel is now, and he knows how lies can be worse than the truth. But he doesn’t want to kill more people than he already has, not if he can help it.  
  
So he doesn’t speak. Neither does Gabriel.  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
The rest of the way to Bobby’s is fairly free of conversation. Dean blasts his tunes and sings along, purposefully off-key. Sam fights to keep a straight face, but ends up giving in before too long. Even Cas seems inclined to join, although he keeps his contribution to purring and sitting closer to Dean than he has been.  
  
Sioux Falls looks pretty much the same as it did when they were here for Christmas. The only difference is that the snow’s drifted and there’s more of it.  
  
The cars in the Singer Salvage yard haven’t been spared the extra precipitation, either. There’s been no time to take down the lights they’d halfheartedly strung up, but the old man’s making the best of it. He’s got them all lit in lieu of a porch light, and there’s a full fire roaring in the hearth.  
  
Bobby greets them at the door with some manly back patting and affectionate insults. He’s clearly been baking a cake- Dean will only willingly choose cake over pie on his birthday. Bobby and Sam think he’s sentimental that way. And it’s a tad harder to get the candles right in a pie.  
  
When Bobby sees Castiel, all small and cute and furry, he laughs until he can’t breathe. The angel doesn’t seem to mind, strangely enough. If anything, he’s apparently pleased to have made the old hunter happy.  
  
A few hours later, once he’s certain that Sam and Bobby are busy working on birthday plans, Dean snatches up Cas and sneaks out to the yard. He glances over his shoulder to see the other two men through the kitchen window, discussing something. The proper way to make burgers, probably.  
  
He sets the kitten down on the hood of the Impala. After he’s reasonably convinced he has Castiel’s full attention, Dean gathers up the tools he’s going to need. His baby is fine, he takes too good of care of her for a problem to arise. But it’s been longer than he likes since he last looked her over.  
  
He doesn’t start speaking until he’s begun to work. “So, Cas,” he ventures, pausing to pick his words. “I think I figured out what Gabriel wants me to tell you.”  
  
And he’s forgotten that he won’t get an answer. Again.  
  
“I worked it out with a wrench in my hand.” Dean chuckles, “I shoulda known that would help.”  
  
He can hear tiny paws against the metal of his baby. He’ll take that as a sign to continue.  
  
“You’re one of us, you know that, right? You’re family, you’ve at least earned that.”  
  
When there’s a teeny mewling by his ear, Dean jumps and almost hits his head on the underbelly of the car. Must be boring up there, he muses. It’s not long before he feels the feline body curled up on his stomach.  
  
“So, I- ‘Cause you’re family, I don’t really like it when you fly off, you know? I can’t watch your back, and I don’t know when you’re coming back, if you’re coming back.” Dean’s rambling now, he’s fully aware of it. He’s also powerless to stop it. “I get, I don’t know, worried about you. I mean, I know you’re a soldier and you’re a badass, but you’re not what you were.”  
  
At this, he can feel the pricks in his skin that mean he’s gone too far. Castiel hates being reminded of his ever-increasing humanity, and all of them been trying to avoid the topic.  
  
“Yeah, OK. But I still don’t like it when you just up and go, all right? Maybe check in from time to time. You do have a phone.” Dean lets himself trail off, lets the conversation (monologue?) lapse into silence.  
  
After a he thinks for a minute he adds, “I’d care if anything happened to you. You’re important to me.”  
  
Castiel dashes off of him suddenly, running out from under the car. Dean follows him, listening to the odd rustling noises coming from the direction the cat went. By the time he can look over there, he sees two sensible shoes and a pair of dark pants, most of which are covered by a tan trench coat.  
  
“Cas?” he asks hesitantly, miserably failing at not getting his hopes up.  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
There have been few times that Dean’s been more happy to hear that growl, but he can’t think of any of them at the moment. He’s on his feet before he can think enough to stop, and he wraps the newly human-shaped angel in an embrace. Finally, as he’s pulling away, he awkwardly tosses a pat to Castiel’s back.  
  
“Man, it is good to see you,” Dean sighs, relieved. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks are hurting a bit, but he can’t bring himself to care.  
  
“You have been seeing me,” Cas returns, but there’s none of that confusion in his eyes, only quiet contentment, a little fondness. Maybe a hint of humor. “Thank you for your honesty. It’s good to be back.”  
  
“So it worked? Nothing hurts?” Dean gets the angel by the shoulders, peers into his face. He doesn’t let go until he receives a nod.  
  
“I’m fine. No lasting effects,” Cas isn’t meeting his gaze, though. “I still need to-”  
  
There’s a shout from the house and both of them take off running. A crashing sound from the kitchen makes them pick up the pace. Neither needs to check to see if the other is beside them, not anymore.  
  
When they reach the doorway, they find a fuming Bobby, digging in a closet for a broom. He grunts as they breach the threshold. “They’re in the other room.”  
  
Castiel and Dean freeze and turn to each other. “They?” Dean mouths, forehead creasing.  
  
Dean’s in the study before Bobby can clarify, Castiel hot on his heels. What they find there brings them up short.  
  
Gabriel, broad smile and waggling eyebrows, is nonchalantly lounging on the desk. Sam is standing off to the side, clearly trying not to be suckered into the archangel’s charm. He’s not entirely succeeding.  
  
“Hey, bro!” Gabe sweeps Castiel up into an enormous hug, and it’s obvious he’s doing it more for the annoyance value than out of brotherly love. From the look on the lesser angel’s face, it’s working.  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel greets, ruffled. He bears the affection without complaint, though Dean can tell he wants to.  
  
Dean steps in as the hug stretches on a bit long. “I turned him back, no thanks to you.”  
  
Gabriel shoots a look at him and then releases his brother. He’s opening his mouth when Sam cuts him off with, “Glad you’re all right, Cas.”   
  
“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel, now free from Gabriel’s clutches, retakes his place. That is to say, just a tad too close to Dean. Nobody comments, mostly due to being used to it.  
  
Bobby yells indignantly from the kitchen about how he “shouldn’t have to clean up when he’s been workin’ his ass off” for Dean’s benefit. Both of the Winchesters scramble to help him, Cas a step behind. Gabriel is left to either amuse himself or follow.  
  
Follow he does. And closely. Sam can hardly turn around without bumping into him.  
  
The archangel is so quiet it’s spooky. It’s like he’s been brushing up on his etiquette lessons or something because he’s only speaking when spoken to. He answers every question the boys pose, including those on the aspects of his cat spell they haven’t worked out yet.   
  
Turns out, they’ve been so tired recently as a side-effect of the kitten curse. As an archangel, he’s got so much power it’s sorta hard to keep a tight lid on it. The boys just got hit with a bit of magical backsplash that left them with a feline attribute or two. If they’d tried it, Gabe assures them, they probably would’ve landed on their feet every time. Or something.  
  
As the evening drags on, Castiel grows more and more frustrated. He keeps attempting to get Dean alone, but either Bobby or Sam interrupt every time. Gabriel, on the other hand, has been scarce, other than when he’s hitting on Sam.  
  
A mini-eternity later, Bobby tells his boys to go to bed in his most paternal tones. Gabriel snickers at their misfortune until those beady eyes turn on him, at which point he gulps and goes with Sam up the stairs. Dean heads after them, Castiel close by, but they only sit on the edge of his bed.  
  
The weird exhaustion that’s been hovering in the air around them has dissipated now that Cas is full size again. Dean’s glad things are relatively normal, sure, but he kind of liked getting more than four hours of sleep a night. And thanks to Gabriel’s help in the sleep department, he hasn’t been hitting the whiskey as hard.  
  
He really could have used just one more decent night.  
  
Castiel isn’t helping. He’s been within arm’s reach of Dean for most of the time he’s been all normal-looking again. They’ve had discussions about personal space and how to go about respecting it, but for some reason it’s like Cas doesn’t get that it applies to Dean, too.  
  
So here they are. A broken hunter who hates himself and a falling angel who feels more and more useless with each passing day. Sitting on a mattress in the dark, listening to the wind.  
  
Dean can’t take it. “Cas, quit squirmin’ around and tell me what’s on your mind.”  
  
He can hear Castiel’s sharp intake of breath right next to him, but other than that he doesn’t get a response straight away. The answer comes just as Dean’s stopped expecting it.  
  
“I don’t like leaving you,” Cas says quietly, as if he’s afraid the world might hear. “If I could, I would stay by your side.”  
  
How did Dean not notice how close they were until this second? He could’ve sworn he’d left at least a foot of manly, heterosexual space between them. But now he can feel Cas’s breath on his face, and it’s warm and wet and enticing in a way he’s never consciously let himself consider. He’s definitely considering it now. In detail.  
  
“You’re important to me as well, Dean. I care about you a great deal. And that’s why I will be turning into a cat again when the sun rises.”  
  
Dean is pretty damn stunned, to say the least. It takes a moment for the shock to wear into confusion, which he clings to.  
  
“What do you mean, you’re gonna turn back into a cat?” There’s some frustration and maybe anger bleeding into his awareness now, but he shoves them down for the moment.  
  
“Gabriel told me what I would need to do in order to break this spell, but I won’t force you-”  
  
Excitement and relief welling up and taking over, Dean cuts him off. “You know how to break it? Then tell me what I need to do. You’re not gonna force me into anything, Cas. I wanna help.” He lands a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Just tell me what to do.”  
  
Castiel leans into the touch, which is… new. Not unpleasant, but definitely new, at least in this form. A serious pause develops as he hesitates. “I know you would go to great lengths for me, Dean, but this isn’t something I can ask of you.”  
  
Dean doesn’t like the sound of that. It’s got to be pretty bad if Cas won’t even bring it up. But if it’s the only way to keep one of his few remaining family members, then he’ll try anything. He relates as much to Castiel, who shakes his head.  
  
Grudgingly, Cas eventually begins to speak again. “To remain in this form, I need to kiss you.”  
  
And that’s just so bluntly Cas that it takes the shock out of the words. Mostly.   
  
“No need to sound so happy about it.” Dean knows he said that to buy himself time. But now that he has it, why isn’t he trying to think of an escape plan?  
  
His gaze won’t stop flicking down to Cas’s mouth, and he can hear his heart beginning to pound. With embarrassment, probably. That’s totally what it is. His mind can shut up any time now about the way that gravelly voice seemed to get even lower on the word kiss. Seriously, it’s not helping.  
  
Stupid eyes, stupid brain. Stupid body that won’t let him get even an inch further from Cas.  
  
“So, just a kiss?” Dean asks when he thinks he’s gotten his inner civil war under control. “Look, dude, you went to Hell to save my ass. The least I can do is pucker up to keep you out of a litter box.”  
  
Right, yeah, that’s the only reason. It’s not like he’s been having any dreams of bright blue eyes and a backwards tie. Nope.  
  
OK, maybe one dream about involving that tie and some very tricky knots. Possibly two. But that’s it. What can he say? He’s only human.  
  
Cas seems astonished that Dean’s not only considering it, but going along with it. “Are you sure?” he all but breathes. “I can’t, won’t make you.” And hey, has Cas always thrown off this much heat?  
  
Dean isn’t sure, hasn’t been less sure of anything as far back as he can remember. It’s the plan they’ve got and it doesn’t sound horrible, not really. He’s done worse with less incentive, that’s for damn sure. Plus, if this works, there’s a chance he’ll never have to talk to Gabriel again. It’s a remote chance, admittedly, especially with that look Sammy’s been sporting whenever the archangel pops in, but…  
  
“Let’s do it,” Dean affirms, before he can change his mind.  
  
He pushes himself up a bit so he can get a better angle for this. It’s not a stretch to imagine Cas hasn’t got any prior experience, so he’s gonna have to do the heavy-lifting.  
  
He cups Cas’s stubbled jaw and feels the pulse under his fingertips jump. Dean smirks a little, mumbles out something that might generously be called a “relax,” and presses forward.  
  
It’s not what he thought it would be, in those dreams that totally never happened. True, Cas has no clue what he’s supposed to be doing, but- he can’t figure out why it’s so freakin’ nice. There’s no weight of expectation, no rush to get anywhere else, no pressure to take it deeper. Just a brush of skin on sensitive skin.  
  
And then it’s over.  
  
Dean peels himself away and watches Cas’s eyes blink open to focus on him once more. He’s gonna get up and increase this ridiculous, tempting, not tempting shouldn’t be tempting why God is it so tempting, distance. Any second now, he’s gonna- Screw it.  
  
“Cas, I’m gonna kiss you again. Is that- Can I-?” That’s all the coherency he’s got in him. Thankfully, somehow, Cas must understand because he’s nodding and his gaze is on Dean’s lips and- Oh.  
  
Yeah, what took them so long to start doing this?  
  
———————————————————————-  
  
“Uh huh, no, we don’t need to see that.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and the image fades into nothing in the air.  
  
“Finally,” Sam adds, sighing and falling back on his own bed. Gabe encourages him to move over, the process involving much prodding. When there’s enough room for both of them, he wriggles in next to the younger Winchester with surprising grace.  
  
“So, it’s our turn now, right, Sammy?”  
  
Sam’s in a pretty good mood, all things considered. That’s got to be why he answers with, “Sure, why not?”


End file.
